


The Morning Comes Swiftly and Without Concern

by NightChanghes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, The Empty, a lil fluff at the beginning, references to fucking lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:27:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23897509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightChanghes/pseuds/NightChanghes
Summary: The air drifts lightly through the bunker. It carries the smell of home to Dean's nose. Something is missing. He chooses to ignore it. For once in his god damn life, he's happy, and he's letting himself enjoy it.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	The Morning Comes Swiftly and Without Concern

When Dean wakes, he doesn’t know where Castiel is. 

He was hoping, after their first night spent together, their first night after finally telling each other the truth about their feelings, that Cas would still be in the bed next to him, curled up and letting little puffs of breath out onto Dean’s shoulder. 

He smiles at the ceiling, thinking back to their night, to the way Cas had blushed when Dean ran his fingers up his thighs to settle on his hips, the way Cas had attempted to kiss every single one of Dean’s freckles before Dean had shooed him away and told him “get on with it already”, the way Cas’ eyes had darkened upon seeing Dean’s skin, and the growl of his voice when he said “I did a pretty good job putting you back together, huh?” The words had made Dean shudder, feeling vulnerable and precious under the angel’s gaze. He thinks about the way Cas had felt on top of him, filling him, burning and sweet, leaving him breathless. Dean’s skin had crackled with angelic anticipation and want and pleasure, and thinking of it now has him getting far too excited without the angel beside him. 

He convinces himself to stand, to get dressed in hotdog pajama pants and his robe, before heading into the hall. The scent of pancakes and bacon drifts in from the kitchen and all he can think is Damn, how’d I get so lucky.   
Much to his disappointment, however, when he enters the kitchen, it’s Jack standing at the stove, pushing the food around and adjusting the heat of the pancake griddle. 

“Morning Jack,” Dean says sleepily while pouring himself a cup of coffee, “You seen Cas?” 

Jack pauses, minutely and tilts his head in a way he could have only learned from Castiel. It brings a smile to his lips. “Castiel? No.” He turns from the stove for a moment, a quizzical look on his face, “Why?” 

Dean just takes a sip from his mug, trying not to let the worry show. He’s sure Cas must be somewhere in the bunker, and it’s not unlike him to take time to himself. 

“Dean?” Jack asks like he’s walking on eggshells, “You seemed happy when you walked in. More so than usual. I could sense it off of you.” 

“Oh,” Dean blushes and wonders how to approach the situation, but no words come. 

Jack’s face falls for a moment, which Dean thinks is odd, but when has that kid ever been ‘normal.’

“Would you say,” Jack ponders his words, “Would you say that Castiel would be in a similar state this morning?” 

Dean huffs out a laugh, almost chokes on his coffee, wonders what Jack is really asking. 

“I would hope so, although like I said, I can’t seem to find him anywh-” 

He’s cut off by Jack running from the kitchen, leaving the stove on. Dean isn’t sure what’s going on, but he sets his coffee onto the counter with a ‘thud’ before he bolts out of the room after Jack. Jack who is abruptly opening the door to Cas’ room. Dean follows, watches the kid as he becomes more and more frantic while he tries not to let the panic settle in. 

“If you’re looking for him, this wasn’t where he slept last night.” Dean says, a bit quieter than intended. 

Jack looks up at him from where he’s looking under the bed with wild eyes. Then he’s standing, pushing past Dean into his own room. Jack gasps, dropping to his knees as tears press into the edges of his vision. 

Dean leans down, brings himself to sit on the cool floor, puts a hand on Jack’s shoulder, “Jack. Jack, buddy, look at me, what’s going on?” 

Jack manages, between a sob, to speak. “It’s Cas, he’s....he’s gone.” 

A small fire of rage flickers on in Dean’s stomach but he tries to keep it at bay. How dare Cas leave right when it was getting better. How dare he up and walk away after Dean explicitly asked him to stay. How dare h-  
He’s snapped out of his thoughts as Jack turns into Dean’s hold, tears soaking through his robe, as Jack just sobs out “He was happy, he was happy, he was happy.” 

“Jack, what do you mean? What does that have to do with him leaving” 

These words seem to pull a sort of seriousness from Jack as he looks up into Dean’s eyes. 

“He didn’t leave.” 

Dean’s about to speak, ask Jack to clarify, when Jack’s trembling voice fills Dean’s head. He goes static. Unable to comprehend what the nephilim sobbing on the floor is trying to tell him.

“He was taken.” 

Silence fills the room, besides the white noise screaming in Dean’s ears and the soft whimpers of Jack’s sorrow. Like he’s underwater, he can hear the vague sound of Sam’s voice calling out, asking who left the bacon on. It’s burning. It’s burning. Dean feels like he’s burning.   
Dean doesn’t know what to do as his thoughts shift into a loop of autopilot. Who took him? Where is he? Save Cas. Save Cas. Save Cas.   
He can’t sit on the concrete floor anymore, he has to do something, anything, has to get his angel back. 

Finally, he manages to pry Jack away enough to look into his tear swollen eyes. 

“Jack, who took Castiel.” 

“He...he made a deal--” 

Dean’s heart drops to his stomach. 

“to save me. The Empty. He’s in the empty.”

Dean shuts his eyes, tries to block out his senses so he doesn’t have to process what Jack said. He feels a faint warmth on his temple then, and when he opens his eyes, he gasps. 

Spoken quietly, barely above a whisper, “Now, you can see what I see.” 

Dean’s eyes search rapidly around his room and it’s all the same. Cas’ side of the bed, the floor beside it, the ceiling, the lamp. They are all covered in thick black goo. It drips menacingly from the ceiling, refuses to stay still as it puddles in his bed, a shape that looks like a handprint slides off the lamp shade.

The black is devoid of any and all feeling. The hopelessness consumes Dean. 

Dean can feel the tears in his eyes rolling out over his cheeks and he can’t stop them. He’s suddenly clutching onto Jack for dear life, a role reversal he’s not ready to admit to. 

He chokes out a “Why?”

And then Jack is pulling him closer, mumbling into his shoulder, “Because he was happy.”


End file.
